


In A Name

by Blisterdude



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Multi, Nathaniel has daddy issues, Sigrun vs World, Warden Commander Cousland is police chief, slow-burn romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blisterdude/pseuds/Blisterdude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He kept telling himself it didn’t matter. That he was a Grey Warden now. That he’d given up everything and would keep giving as much as it took for the cause, to prove to…who? The Commander? His comrades? Himself? To prove that he was better than his family name. Different from his father. That he was his own person and damn it if people didn’t stop looking at him the way they’d look at Rendon then-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoking Break

Nathaniel Howe set the axe against the cart, along with his bow and sword, and half-sat on the back wheel, catching his breath.

He and some volunteers from Amaranthine, along with a few Wardens, were gathering lumber for repairs to Vigils Keep. The Darkspawn had been defeated and the city saved, but the Keep had taken a beating.

Still, it had done the job. They had survived.

He fumbled through his weatherworn leather coat, drawing out his pipe and a small leather pouch, his mind wandering as his hands went through the familiar routine.

Winter would be setting in soon. There was already a slight chill in the air and a fine coat of dew in the mornings that would shortly become frost. He took a long draw, watching the other volunteers at work across the clearing.

“Velanna says that’s a bad habit.” An earnest voice sounded from behind him.

Howe jumped, descending into a fitful of choked coughs as his breath hitched and his throat filled with backed-up smoke. A firm, but careful hand switched between patting and rubbing his back, while another gripped his shoulder.

“Sorry.” Sigrun said, hesitantly.

“S’okay.” He managed, throat hoarse. “Wasn’t paying attention.” He waved her apology off, turning to lean sideways on the cart.

Sigrun was standing on the back, arms resting on sides looking worried. The thought that this was one of those rare terms she was at eye-level wormed its way through his muddled head and he felt the urge to smile. Instead, he took another slow draw on the pipe.

“Maybe Velanna was right.” She shrugged.

“Maybe you want to see the shit she smokes.” He chuckled, thinking of the elf’s Dailish concoctions and remedies. “For that matter, so do I. Apparently some of those things leave you seeing _visions_.”

“What about yours?”

“Mine just relaxes me.” He shrugged. “Not much of an alchemist, or a herbalist. The mix was passed to me by…” And there it was again, the sick, heavy feeling in his gut. The weight that never left his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Sigrun asked, seeing some change in his face.

“My father gave it to me.”

Nathaniel Howe, son of the former Arl Rendon Howe. Family of traitors, usurpers, opportunists, villains…

He kept telling himself it didn’t matter. That he was a Grey Warden now. That he’d given up everything and would keep giving as much as it took for the cause, to prove to…who? The Commander? His comrades? Himself? To prove that he was better than his family name. Different from his father. That he was his own person and damn it if people didn’t stop looking at him the way they’d look at Rendon then-

“Hey.” Sigrun shoved him, pulling him from his thoughts. She had a light frown, somewhere beneath all her tattoos. “Cheer up, it might not happen.” She grinned at him and hopped down off the cart, axe in hand, and went back to join the other woodcutters.

He watched her go, sometimes still not sure if she was real or some kind of…collective shared hallucination among the Wardens.

For all that, Sigrun was probably his only friend. Maybe his first, if it came to that. Sure, he trusted and counted on the other Wardens, as they did he…he hoped. As comrades, as brothers in arms, as men and women joined by blood with a shared, inevitable fate. But friends…it was hard to know where he stood, still, sometimes.

Sigrun had changed, in the time since the defeat of the Architect. She’d gradually let go of her past with the Legion and embraced her role with the Wardens more than any of them, in a way he thought comparable to only the Commander.

Of course she refused to stop joking about finding her death fairly often. He wasn’t sure why. As Wardens, the same destination awaited them all, now.

And despite living below the surface all her life, she was adapting to life as a surfacer fairly quickly too. She always had questions, queries, thoughts, musings, observations to make…

And to his surprise, he found he was only too willing to entertain them.

Maybe he just liked feeling useful to somebody as more than a monster-slayer. Maybe he liked the way she looked at him and saw Nathaniel Howe, rather than his father. Maybe he was just lonely.

He took a last draw on the pipe, enjoying the sensation of the fumes smothering his inner worries and fears, like putting out a fire. 

“Nate!”

He dragged himself from his thought again to find Sigrun standing in front of him. She was looking up at him with a determined frown, arms behind her back. Behind her, he noticed the other standing around, watching, some with amused looks on their faces.

Nathaniel tried not to scowl as he pocketed his pipe and inwardly raced to think whether he’d said or done anything to stupid or-

She pulled an axe, his, from behind her and thrust it into his empty hands. He looked down at her, drawing a mental blank. He opened his mouth but couldn’t find anything to say.

“Don’t just stand there lookin’ at me. Everybody else is working.” She turned up the collar of the fur-lined coat she wore and crossed her arms. “Get to it.”

He briefly looked at the others again, searching quickly for disapproval or enmity but found only a look of general entertainment and several examples of stifled laughter that quickly stopped when Sigrun spun round at the noise.

“Right, boss.” He said, gripping the haft.

She turned back, her dark eyes meeting his. After a moment he smiled wryly and she grinned.

“Good.” She nodded, satisfied and went to join the others again.

He watched her go, bemusedly, as he rested the axe over his shoulder. He felt an unfamiliar sort of…twinge in the pit of his stomach for a moment, but pushed it aside before Sigrun felt the need to get a stick and start poking him with it.

“It’s your round tonight, right?” He called, joining them.

The surprised look on her face was worth the torrent of dwarven curses that followed.


	2. Goodbye, Old Sigrun

Sigrun made her way through the halls of the Keep, making a beeline for the library.

She’d not had much of an education, not far beyond ‘survive’, at any rate. A casteless waif, runner for the Carta, living…barely…from day to day…

Mischa had saved her. She knew that, and it had broken her heart to betray her but…what else could she have done? Let her be murdered?  She was grateful, more grateful than she really knew how to show to the Commander, for helping her to apologise to the woman who’d risked everything to take in a wild nobody off the streets of Dust Town.

She was also grateful for the enormous library the Commander had seen to the construction of, when first rebuilding Vigil’s Keep.  Mischa had taught her something of words and reading, but it had been Varlan that had taught her to read properly, even to write some.

How did you thank someone who taught you to read and write your own name.

She thought back to her decision to give his ring to Mischa, to help the woman set up her family on the surface. Varlan had been a good man, for being one of the nobles, she thought he’d probably have appreciated the use of his wealth in such a practical manner.

Sigrun pushed open the heavy oak door into the library. It was quiet inside, muted. The thick-set bookcases dulled the other sounds of the Keep and the wind outside in a kind of…comforting, pleasing way.

She paused by one such bookcase, thumbing over the spines. Some were old, some newer. The Commander had seen to the import of many of the volumes, but many more had simply come from the other Wardens, or donations from various visitors, or from some of the highborn families in Amaranthine. It had resulted in a very…varied collection. Sigrun couldn’t have been happier.

Since coming to the surface, she’d been eager to learn all she could about a world she hardly knew of, a world called Thedas that stretched beyond the scope of anything she recognised in Orzammar, or the Deep Roads.

A lot had changed, since those days.

She picked up a book on the history of Ferelden and took a climbed into an ancient old chair slightly too big for her by a table in the corner.

Would Varlan have understood? Sigrun was aware that, for the most part, she had abandoned her life…death in the Legion. Sigrun was no more, long live Sigrun?

The thought tickled her somewhat. It helped to think of it whenever she did feel  a little down. How many people were given the opportunity to die twice? Legion Sigrun was no more, may the Ancestors watch over her dust. Warden Sigrun would face inevitable death once more, one day. The blood would call her, as it would all of them.

But not today, she smiled to herself, cracking open the weathered tome.

“You look remarkably pleased with yourself.”

She glanced up from the book to see Velanna glide into the room. Velanna always did that. _Glide._ Walk never seemed an appropriate word. Maybe it was an elf thing.

“Just thinking, how many people get to die twice in their lives?” She replied, as if the Dailish mage had been present for the her inner-thoughts for the past five minutes.

“I…” Velanna managed, blinking at the dwarf, momentarily stunned. “…is that a lead up to some kind of shemlen joke or…?”

“No, I mean-” Sigrun began. “-doesn’t matter. And I know what that word means now, that’s not fair to the others, is it?” She frowned, somewhat reproachfully.

Velanna was kind to her, but the mage could still be…Sigrun settled on _frosty_ , mentally…frosty to their human comrades.

“You learn fast, little one.” Velanna gave her a small smile. “Old habits.” The woman, said quietly, then retrieved a book, gave her a nod and swept out of the library.

Sigrun watched her go, slightly troubled.

She was trying to learn fast. But she confessed to still feeling entirely out of her depth,

 _Depth, haha_ , she thought, wryly.

, depth, when interacting with surfacers.

If the all dwarves were two-faced, in the cut-throat culture that was Orzammar society, then elves had about four faces, and humans…

Humans had more faces than she was sure she would ever learn to count.

At least elves were…well…you had the elves who moved to the cities, living an echo of the life lived by humans. Treated like…slaves. And you had Velanna and her kind, who lived like the old, old elves. Or tried to, from what she’d been told.

But humans? Humans were so different. All of them different. All over the place. Kingdoms, countries, city-states… _everywhere._

Ferelden hated Orlais. Orlais hated Ferelden and the Free Marches. The Free Marches hated Orlais and Tevinter. Tevinter hated everybody and everybody hated Tevinter. It did her head in, but…

But it was all so _fascinating._

And Nathaniel was always willing to take the time to explain things to her, when the books failed. She was grateful for that too. She liked him.

She hadn’t, at first. He’d seemed so distant, aloof. _Arrogant._ A mirror of those self-absorbed nobles in Orzammar, caught up in their own worries and concerns and completely unaware of any real problem.

But it wasn’t that, she’d learned. And as she had learned from watching and listening to him, her understanding of humans had grown a little too. She had to confess, he was a focal point for her interest in their puzzling ways.

She’d learnt from him, and a little from the Commander, of his troubled past. His hollow family life, being sent away young to be trained, his life in the Marches, learning of his father’s death and the true circumstances that had led to it. How it had brought his world crashing down around him.

Different to her own past struggles, but maybe you couldn’t measure tragedy or pain. Everybody was different. That was something the Commander had told her.

He had been kind to her too though, despite her fairly constant rebukes and rebuffs when they’d first met, scolding him for his worries and woes as she would have any of the nobles of her own race.

She hadn’t been entirely fair.

But she was a Warden now. A new Sigrun. She wasn’t going to waste the new life she’d been given. And Nathaniel was her friend, so she’d try and help him as much as he helped her. That seemed to be fairly important in human relationships.

The door to the library opened again and she peered over the top of her book to see Nathaniel enter, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Speak of the Archdemon.” She noted, grinning.

“Sorry?” His eyes flicked to her in surprise. “Oh, Sigrun. I wasn’t expecting to find anybody else in her. I was…er…” His eyes cast about, guiltily.

“Looking for somewhere to hide from the Commander?”

He gave her a crooked smile in response, tucking a few strands of dark hair behind his ear casually.

“I think she’s in Amaranthine anyway.”

“Ah. I’ll go then, don’t want to disturb you.”

“You can stay.” She said quickly. “If you want.” Sigrun added, hurriedly looking down at the book again.

He glanced at the door, then shrugged.

“Could use a nap I suppose.” He made his way to another old chair, sliding into it. She watched as he leaned back, eyes closed and folded one long leg over the other lazily.

Moments later he was breathing quietly.

She watched his chest slowly rise and fall, then the way his usually angular features softened in his sleep. His bristly, scarred face, his slightly crooked nose, his sharp, dark brows.

Sigrun  jumped when he cleared his throat, eyes darting back to her book.

The library remained quiet for several minutes after that, then Sigrun frowned.

“Nate, what’s a Landsmeet?” She asked.

Nathaniel didn’t move, or open his eyes as he replied, explaining in that lazy, gravelly tone she associated with him now.

Sigrun smiled.


	3. Warden's Work

“Oghren, take those on the right!”

At least the Commander was enjoying herself, Nathaniel mused.

“Aye, lass!” The dwarf replied, taking a last swig from his flask and let out a roar.

The knot of bandits just emerging from the treeline stopped dead in their tracks as Oghren hurled himself at them, laughing and brandishing his enormous two-handed, double-headed axe.

Warden-Commander Cousland let out a sharp, satisfied laugh and turned her attention back to the bandit archers lining the road. She stepped forward, defiantly, her crimson bob swishing and her braids flying, grinning confidently.

“Velanna!” She yelled, waving her sword in the vague direction of the archers.

Velanna spoke an incantation softly but the effect was anything but. Shards of ice exploded out of the ground, throwing the archers into disarray.

The main body of the bandit force pushed through the remnants of the archers and charged forward.

“Anders!” The Commander hollered, raising her shield.

Anders moved to the right and raised his staff. A curtain of electricity rippled and snaked through the air in an arc, curving downward in amongst the mass of bandits.

“Nathaniel! Sigrun!” the Commander bellowed.

Nathaniel gripped several arrows in his teeth, nocking another in the bow and raised it. His first shot took the largest bandit in the knee. The second arrow followed, finding its mark in the man’s shoulder.  As he stumbled, several others got caught up in the tumble, bringing half of the charge to a chaotic stop.

Sigrun appeared behind them, in a cloud of swirled up dust and smoke, dual-wielding a pair of short swords and with a demonic, if enthusiastic glint in her eye.

Several screams followed as the dwarf lost herself in the fray. Nathaniel saw Oghren’s own foray had spilled into the melee on the road. As the bandits threated to spill into the woods on the left, caught as they were between the two furious dwarves, Velanna let out a brief, sharp cry and a jet of flame shot up the road, cutting off that avenue of escape.

“At ‘em!” Warden-Commander Rhiannon Cousland yelled, raising her shield before her. She took off at a sprint, crashing into the confused front rank of the bandits, her sword tailing behind her as she swung it in a wide arc, caring little for finesse and more for effect.

Nathaniel nocked another arrow and fired. The shaft buried itself in the chest of a bandit who had recovered enough to attempt flanking the Commander. She managed something approaching a salute as she noticed the attacker fall, before focusing again on the fight, driving her shield into the neck of another opponent.

His eye caught movement behind the skirmish. One of the archers, the only one not to have fled or died, apparently, had an arrow ready and was taking aim in his direction…wait…

He saw Velanna to his left, and the archer shift slightly.

Without thought, he had another arrow in his grasp, ignoring the strain on his arm as he pulled it back quickly and fired, barely taking time to aim. The arrow found its way through the chaotic throng, unfettered, knocking the surprised archer off his feet with the force of impact.

Velanna glanced back at him, probably ready with some kind of criticism or-

“Thank you, Howe.” The Dailish mage nodded at him and jogged along the treeline to the left.

Or, he could be less of an arse, he mused.

He turned his attention back to the melee, nocking another arrow and taking aim among the mass of bodies. His arrow hit the shoulder of a club-wielding wretch mid-strike. Sigrun appeared from behind him, barging the bandit the other way and throwing off several other attackers. She noticed the arrow, then looked around quickly, grinning with child-like glee when she found him. He managed a stiff smile in return.

He watched as she ducked another falling body, carried to the floor by Oghren and his axe, roaring all the way. Sigrun stepped back, amused, failing to see the two bandits coming at her from behind.

Nathaniel surged forward, not thinking at all as he tore two more arrows from his rapidly depleting quiver and ignoring again the spike of pain in his shoulder as he pulled back the heavy string. Sigrun must have seen something in his expression but moved to turn too late.

“Look out, Nathaniel!” Anders called from his right.

A bandit staggered out of the skirmish into him and he buried his foot in their back. He ignored the cry, or the crack, and raised the bow. The arrows flew, and almost imperceptibly, split mid-flight. Their flight widened as they progressed. For a brief, fleeting moment, his stomach turned to lead and he felt his heart grind to a halt when he thought he’d misjudged the shot.

As Sigrun turned to face her attackers, the arrows cut past, either side of her. So intently focused was he, he was sure he saw her hair, her pigtails, shift slightly as the arrows swept by. The bandits struggled to slow, too late, as each arrow hit them square in the chest with a low _thunk_. He fancied he could even hear the sound over the clamour of battle.

Sigrun remained still as the two fell backward, then turned slowly back to face him. The rest of the Wardens finished up the remnants of the bandit crew, allowing what few remained alive to flee back down the road.

He exhaled, slowly, letting out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Sigrun was still looking at him, across the carnage, with a look of mild surprise on her face. Was she angry? At one time she’d have berated him for trying to prevent the passing of someone already dead, because of her Legion vows. But she hadn’t said anything like that in ages, not seriously anyway. He felt like maybe he should say something or-

“Good work, Howe.” Commander Cousland appeared beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Brilliant shooting!”

“Thanks.” He replied, dubiously.

In the distance, he saw Velanna laughing as she turned the road under the bandit stragglers to ice. One last kick in the…well, at least the mage was happy.

“That should keep the road safe for travel for a little while at least.” Rhiannon crossed her arms, appearing pleased with their handiwork. “Might even persuade some of the merchants to contribute some to those in need in Amaranthine. A little charity wouldn’t hurt, eh?”

“Might be they need a little persuading, even still.” He replied, looking for Sigrun again.

“I can be very persuasive.” The Commander shot him a grin.

He met her gaze briefly, before looking out along the road again.

“You can at that, Commander.”

She clapped him on the shoulder again and moved on to regroup with the others. He still couldn’t work out where Sigrun had disappeared to. How the hell did she-

“Hey.” A chirpy, familiar voice greeted from beside him.

He looked down, to his right, and was unsurprised to see the dark-haired dwarf standing there. They watched the others gather around the Commander.

“Hey.” He replied, after a few moments.

“You saved my life.” She was peering up at him, her expression masked by her tattoos.

“Not going to tell me off about it this time are you?” He grinned slightly, meeting her eyes.

“Not this time.” She smirked back. “This time, I had a life worth saving.”

He crossed his arms, frowning slightly. He knew she was just joking…but still…

“You know, to some people, some humans for example. Some humans might have considered your life’s worth the same whatever oath you followed.” He explained, quietly.

She was joking, he knew. But still. He still felt it needed to be said. It just did.

He could feel her eyes on him, watching him carefully. She was always watching things, always trying to learn. Nathaniel might not have learned as much, but he’d always felt like the outsider watching in, so she reminded him of himself in that respect.

Thankfully, she didn’t remind him of himself in all the other ways.

“Cheer up, Nate.” She elbowed him in the side, familiar grin on her face once more. “Wicked shooting, by the way. Bet no other Howe was that good.”

He met her gaze briefly, looking for any sign of malice in her eyes, and then felt instantly sick with himself for expecting anything other than the genuine sincerity he saw as she looked up at him, smiling kindly.

“My…grandfather was quite an archer, I was told.” He replied, looking away again. He patted the bow slung over his shoulder. “This belonged to him.” His eyes strayed down to her as she looked out ahead.

“Huh.” Sigrun nodded to herself, pigtails bobbing slightly with the motion. “I guess I owe him too?”

“I don’t think he’d be in any position to collect.” Nathaniel answered.

Sigrun snorted, then chuckled. The noise made him smile.

Commander Cousland had rounded up the others and was leading them back their way.

“Okay, you’ll have to do.”

“Charmed.” Nathaniel replied, nudging her gently with his knee.

“Drinks’re on me back at the Crown and Lion?” She looked up at him again.

“Done.” He agreed, looking down at her.

“Good.”

“Alright you two, fall in.” Commander Cousland gestured behind her. “After this day’s work I think we all deserve a night off.”

“Sound’s good t’me lass.” Oghren laughed, hoarsely, elbowing Anders as they passed, while the mage winced, trying to edge away from the dwarf.

“First round’s on Nate.” Sigrun chirped, darting after the others.

“I-…hey.” He growled, glaring at the dwarf scout as she laughed.

“Good on you, Howe!” the Commander yelled from the front.

He was about to argue, but the rebuttal died in his throat when he saw Sigrun smile back at him and laugh before following the others.

“Yeah. Good on me.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes. Though he failed to stop the thin smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He re-shouldered his bow and fell into step behind the Wardens as they made their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last we introduce the eponymous hero of Dragon Age: Origins, Rhiannon Cousland, Hero of Ferelden!


	4. Misunderstandings

Nathaniel waited at the door patiently, shuffling from one foot to another awkwardly. In his Warden armour, there was no denying he stood out on the streets of Amaranthine. Not that the people were unaccustomed to them now, not after the Darkspawn attack. If anything, they were greeted with a sense of open, if still slightly guarded, welcome.

“Yes?” A female voice replied from within, muffled by the door.

“It’s me, ‘Lilah.”

The door opened quickly, revealing his younger sister. Before he could say anything she pulled him into a hug, which he gradually returned.

“What brings you here, big brother?” She asked, once they’d parted.

“I’m…going on assignment soon. We’re going to do a sweep of the Deep Roads entrances in the region. The Commander just wants to be sure, I think.” He paused, unconsciously looking out for her even now. “She’s very…enthusiastic.”

His sister stepped aside, allowing him in. He followed her through the short hall into the main room. It was spartanly furnished, but not bare. Utilitarian, but with little homely touches if you knew where to look. If you knew Delilah.

“She saved us all.” Delilah replied, sitting down at a table in the centre, gesturing at an empty seat beside her. “You all did. Hard to believe that was the same grubby Cousland tomboy I remember as a child.” His sister smiled fondly.

“’Lilah?” He prompted.

“Hm?” She blinked, as if coming awake. “Sorry, miles away. Did you know one summer she and I-”

“I don’t think I need to hear this.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“If you could see the look on your face.” Delilah giggled.

“One of the few graces of being me is that I don’t have to.”

His sister shoved him, playfully.

“Such a grouch.” She chided. “I’m a married woman now, happily so. It was just a bit of fun between friends, too young to care.”

“I’ll be sure to forget this little anecdote.” He stroked his chin, thoughtfully. “Oghren’s gotta have some kind of memory-killing liquor.”

They laughed a little, settling into a comfortable quiet.

He’d missed her more than he could say, after being sent to the Marches, and then learning of the Blight, the death of his father, the thought that all of those he knew were gone… Maybe he should do something to show his gratitude to the Commander, some time. Maybe.

“How are you anyway, ‘Lilah, you and your family.”

“We’re doing okay.” She replied, plainly. “My husband and our little one on the way.” She placed a hand on her stomach, gently.

Nathaniel smiled, unable to hide his own shared happiness, this once. He placed his hand gently over hers, fancying he could feel the life inside.

“If you ever need anything…” He began, looking at her meaningfully.

She lifted her hand from her stomach, gripping his.

“Thank you. But I have you back, alive, safe. I don’t need anything else.”

“Well,” He began. “, ‘safe’ is a flexible term, as a Grey Warden.”

When she didn’t laugh he winced.

“I do worry.”

“I’m sorry. That was…stupid.”

“How long will you be gone then?” She asked, glancing up from their still-clasped hands.

“A few weeks maybe? A month? Er…more? We got the short straw, our entrance is miles off.” He shrugged, helplessly. “I’m hoping it’s just a matter of hiking out there, wet, cold and tired, finding nothing, and hiking back, wetter, colder and exhausted.”

“Sounds like quite a trip.”

“Sigrun’ll will be having the time of her life, probably.” He muttered, sitting back.

“Sigrun?”

“She’s-” There was a knock at the door, cutting him off.

Delilah let go of his hand as she went to get the door, chuckling lightly to herself.

“ _She?_ ” Delilah echoed, coyly.

“Maker’s Breath, sister.” He grumbled, burying his face in his palm, but she only laughed. “It’s _not_ -”

Delilah turned away to open the door.

“Ye-…oh!”

He tried to peer around her, surreptitiously, to see who it was.

“Nate-…er…Warden Howe? Is he here? He’s here, right?”

He got up quickly and readied some excuse to get them away before they started talking.

“Ready to move.” He muttered, stopping beside his sister.

The dwarf looked to and from the both of them curiously.

“The Commander is getting antsy, she wants to move.” Sigrun turned to his sister. “Sorry to cut your…uh…time short.”

“It’s okay.” Delilah smiled, a little sadly. “I’m-”

“C’mon, Sigrun.” He urged. “Don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

Delilah made a quiet _oh_ sound and he cringed, internally cursing his slip.

Sigrun and his sister were both looking at him now, expressions of varied interest.

“Time to go.” He said, breaking the silence, making to push through and out the door as fast as he could walk with at least apparent calm.

Not before his sister yanked him back by the shoulder and kissed him on the cheek, before promptly pushing him back out the door, though.

“Come back safe.” She smiled, then looked down at Sigrun beside him. “You too. Bring him back.”

“Will do, ma’am.” She saluted, mock-seriously.

He gave his sister a brief smile in return before striding off down the street, Sigrun jogging along behind in an attempt to keep up.

“Sorry…I didn’t know…you were…with somebody.” She panted, once he finally slowed his pace. “Is she…a friend?” The dwarf exhaled, matching his walking pace.

His eyes flitted down to her, wondering if she was implying-

“I mean, we’re going to be gone for a while, I can see wanting to blow off a little steam.” She continued, the picture of sincerity and innocence.

Ah, he mused, head feeling oddly light.

“Er…” She looked up at him, brows knitted in a light frown. “…did I…say the wrong thing?”

“That was my sister.” He replied.

“Oh.” She managed. “Oh. Ohhhhhh.” Her hands went to her mouth and her brows softened and her eyes widened in this adorable, furtive way.

He hadn’t even been annoyed to begin with, it wasn’t her fault. But now, seeing her face, he just wanted to laugh.

“Delilah.” He continued, slight grin playing on his lips.

“I’m sorry.” She blurted, muffled by her hands.

“The Commander helped me find her, after all these years.” He explained, grin spreading.

“I’m sorry.” Sigrun repeated.

“Funny. It’s normally me that sticks his foot in his mouth.” He continued, chuckling now.

Sigrun pouted, crossing her arms and staring ahead.

“I said I was sorry, stop laughing at me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He argued, laughter belying his claim.

“Stop it.” She pushed him, but she was grinning now too.

“Stop what.” He planted his hand on top of her head, ruffling her hair.

“Laughing!” She laughed, waving his hand away and brushing her hair out of her eyes.

He stopped in his tracks, outside The Crown and Lion, Sigrun stopped a few steps ahead when she noticed.

“Have we got time for a drink?” He gestured to the door. “I owe you one.” He offered.

Sigrun grinned, happily.

“Probably not. Shall we?” She gestured to the entrance. “But I owe you one too.” She added.

“Okay, but then I owe you another.” He said, as they stepped up to the door.

“Fine, but then I owe you one more.” She wagged a finger at him, seriously.

“Alright, and then…” Nathaniel continued, as they stepped into the inn.

 

…

 

Warden-Commander Rhiannon Cousland strode into The Crown and Lion, a light frown settling on her face. Several patrons back away nervously as she entered, flanked by several other Grey Wardens in full armour.

“And you’re sure Sigrun came to town looking for Nathaniel?”

“Aye.” Oghren nodded, barely paying attention. His attention was focused on the multitude of alcohol flowing freely.

She scanned the room carefully, watching carefully for the royal blue that marked the Warden uniform. Her eyes caught something on a table across the floor, not far from the bar. She crossed the floor, allowing several locals to move themselves out of her way before stopping by the table.

Nathaniel had his head pressed against the table, a tankard held firmly in one hand, while Sigrun seemed to be holding a very one-sided conversation with herself. She appeared to have not noticed, so far.

Rhiannon cleared her throat.

Sigrun looked up, her eyes going wide. She fumbled with her free hand for Nathaniel, whacking his head several times, her gaze never leaving the Commander’s.

“Nate.” She hissed. “ _Nate_.”

“Wrrghh.” He groaned, heaving himself upright. Seemingly out of instinct, he took another swig, then winced. Pushing aside the drink, he rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to focus through bleary eyes. “Sigrun? What is…hhrruugghh…” He groaned burying his head in his hands.

Sigrun spared him a frantic glance before looking back at her again.

“Hello Commander!” The dwarf greeted her loudly, trying to stand up but succeeding in only getting caught up in the human-sized furniture.

She smirked a little as Nathaniel visibly stiffened all over.

“Commander!” He half-yelled, jolting upright so fast his chair went flying backward with the force.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, noting with satisfaction how much he seemed to be swaying, despite his apparent concerted effort to remain standing straight. By this time Sigrun had managed to free herself from the chair and was standing too, though wobbling slightly less.

“It appears we’ve found our two finest scouts, gentlemen.” Rhiannon gestured at the pair. The Wardens behind her chuckled amongst themselves. “Now, suppose one of you explain just what was going on here?”

“…ah, Commander-” Nathaniel began, haltingly, wishing the floor would stop moving.

“Warden Howe was ‘splainin’ how come why there aren’t no horses aroun’ despite all the carts n’ carriages, ma’am.” Sigrun interrupted, slurring more with every word.

“Oh?” Rhiannon prompted.

“An’ then he ess’plained a little mis…miss-…mishappenstake fr’m earlier, ma’am.”

“Sigrun, _shut up._ ” Nathaniel pleaded, barely noticing as he tipped over sideways, and began leaning on the wall.

“Do go on.” The Commander was grinning now.

“See, I thought ‘e was…y’know…an’ like…er he wasn’, see…” Sigrun started blushing noticeably, through both her tattoos and her already reddened cheeks. “But it was jus’ Delilah!” The dwarf gesticulated helplessly, willing her audience to understand.

“Makers Breath.” Nathaniel groaned, sliding down the wall to the floor.

“Nate, you okay?” Sigrun slurred, concern bleeding through her words as she struggled up onto the table, peering over the other side to the slumped, moaning form beneath.

Commander Cousland sighed.

“We leave tomorrow morning.”

“Andraste be praised.” Nathaniel grumbled from the floor.

“ _Early._ _Dawn_.” She continued, smirking. “And of course, our two _finest_ scouts will be leading the way, ensuring the road ahead is secure.”

“Fade take you all.” Nathaniel managed, finally losing consciousness.

“After you, Howe.” Rhiannon chuckled. “What about you Si-”

A low, rumbling snore drew all their attention to the table. Sigrun had apparently fallen asleep some moments before, face down on top of it.

“Not everyone c’n hold their drink.” Oghren chuckled, throatily.

“Indeed.” She agreed.

“Um…Commander?” One of the newer Wardens appeared at her shoulder. “You’re not really going to have these two take such responsibility in this…state?”

“Of course not. I’ll have other scouts ranging ahead of them.” She grinned, smugly. “But _they_ don’t know that.”

Oghren chuckled gruffly as they turned followed the Commander out, leaving the pair snoring away to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not be the last time Nathaniel and Sigrun end up blind drunk, I can assure you.


	5. The Talk

Sigrun tagged along behind Nathaniel as best she could. Admittedly, it wasn’t as tricky as usual, when he’d forget she was with him and stride on ahead, then stop and apologise once he heard her jogging along to keep up.

Dwarf scouts didn’t usually need to worry about a diverse array of terrain. It was either rocky cave or ruined road.

Nathaniel would stop every once in a while too, to rest against a tree. There he would groan and rub his head because of his hangover, or tug at the collar of his studded leather tunic because of the sweltering heat.

Sigrun could only wait patiently by him each time, smiling weakly in sympathy. She’d felt a little off-colour that morning, but the sensation had passed quickly. Humans seemed to suffer the consequences of drinking much more… _severely_.

“Are you okay?” She asked, rubbing his back softly.

“Wonderful.” He rasped, jolting forward to retch.

“We can stop for a while.”

“And give that red-headed harridan the satisfaction?” He grunted. “I think not.”

“You know she has other rangers out.” She shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter.”

“I’d be worried if she really was counting on an,” He looked at her with a slight grin “, enviously sober dwarf and a half-drunk wretch like me to look out for our comrades.” He chuckled.

“So what are you pushing yourself for?” Sigrun huffed. “She probably knows we know too!”

“I know she knows we know but I’ll be damned if I let her know we know she knows we know!” Nathaniel pulled himself upright, slamming his fist into the tree.

Sigrun rolled her eyes, still rubbing circles in his back as he lurched forward to heave again.

“This is one of those human things isn’t it?”

“Yes!” He growled. “I mean no! Andraste’s knickers.”

“I beg your pardon?” She balked, quirking an eyebrow.

“…er…” He turned to look at her, very clearly embarrassed, and promptly vomited on her boots.

 

…

 

Rhiannon strolled across the small camp to the tent set up for Nathaniel.

She felt pretty awful after Sigrun showed up late that afternoon, struggling into camp with Nathaniel. The dwarf was practically dragging him along, his limp arm pulled across her shoulders.

She’d expected them to come back much sooner, the whole exercise had just been to teach them a stupid lesson. For some reason, she continued to forget the man had a perpetual bee in his bonnet.

Fortunately, Sigrun had more than enough sense for the two of them and had managed to bring him back before he could make himself any more ill.

Sigrun was sitting outside his tent, calmly, legs crossed and playing with something in her hands. She looked up as the Commander approached, smiling a little.

“How is he?” Rhiannon asked.

“Sleeping it off.” Sigrun replied, glancing at the tent behind her. The dwarfs expression softened. “Does he always push himself like that?” She asked, looking up at her again.

Rhiannon sat down beside her, in the same position as Sigrun.

“Truthfully, we only met a little while before we found you.” Rhiannon explained. “But I knew of him, when I was a little girl. My father and his were old comrades, and though he never visited with his father, Rendon used to mention Nathaniel quite often.” She felt a little sad, as she always did, when she thought back to the Howe attack on Highever.

“And then his father betrayed your family.” Sigrun prompted.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” The dwarf said, sadly.

“If I’ve learned one thing, since I joined the Wardens, back then.” She grinned wrly. “And don’t get me wrong, I’ve learned a damn lot of things, but if there’s one thing I’d place higher, it’s that we can all be better.”

“How do you mean?”

“It took a long time for my thirst for revenge to…die.” Rhiannon replied, honestly. “And when I saw Nathaniel in that cell, finding out who he was…I confess a desire to make him pay for his family’s deeds. Even though the man responsible was long gone, by that point.”

“Really?” Sigrun looked genuinely surprised.

“It was like seeing Rendon, for a moment.” She continued, slowly, closing her eyes. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

She could feel Sigrun watching her quietly.

“After the Blight, our travels, the people I’ve met and…loved… It wouldn’t have been right. I let him go.” She exhaled, turning back to Sigrun, who was looking at her understandingly. “We can all be better.” Rhiannon murmured.

“He wants to be better, I think.” Sigrun said, suddenly.

“Rendon Howe is something Nathaniel will have to come to terms with himself. He’s earned my respect.” Rhiannon replied. “And that of many others. Including yours I believe.” She smiled down at the dwarf.

“Nate’s nice to me.” She shrugged, looking down at something in her hands. “I didn’t know he had a sister. I thought-”

“Ah, your little…mishappenstake was it?” She chuckled at Sigrun’s mortified expression. “Would it bother you if she hadn’t been his sister?” Rhiannon teased.

“What do you mean?” Sigrun asked, looking noticeably puzzled.

“I just mean…er…like…” Rhiannon floundered, opening and closing her mouth a few times. “…um…it doesn’t matter really.” She gave up.

Sigrun peered at her, curiously, _scrutinous_.

“I should see to the sentries.” Rhiannon climbed to her feet, dusting off the back of her legs. “Oh, and here.” She handed a parcel to the dwarf. “Just some food, for when he feels up to eating.”

“…thanks.” Sigrun replied, still frowning at her slightly.

“Right. Well.” Rhiannon nodded at her and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Sigrun blurted, suddenly. “Did you mean…oh…” She trailed off, quietly.

When Rhiannon looked back briefly, before marching hurriedly away, Sigrun was staring fixedly at a point on the floor in front of her and blushing furiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhiannon Cousland can be cruel.


	6. Well-Read

“Two weeks out here and so far we’ve found absolutely bugger-” Nathaniel growled, before descending into a fit of coughing.

“Not a lot.” Anders finished for him, nodding sympathetically at the dark-haired man.

“You’ve found a fever?” Sigrun nudged him gently with her elbow, trying to smile.

“ _Caught,_ Siggy, you catch fevers.” Anders peered around Nathaniel at the dwarf.

Sigrun giggled at Anders’ nickname for her.

Rhiannon had taken the rest of the party a little way into the Deep Roads entrance itself, to check thoroughly for any signs of incursion.

The three of them were left outside. Ostensibly they were a rearguard, but in reality the Commander had told them to keep any eye on Howe.

Howe was a pale, shivering wreck, and in defiance of the heat, was wrapped in a heavy, grey woollen blanket. He was hunched over, huddled between Sigrun and Anders who could only sit there and watch him rough through it.

“I need a drink.” Nathaniel grumbled. “Or ten. Not fussy. Rotgut’ll do.”

“Isn’t that what got you into this fix?” Anders noted, sceptically.

“Grrruurrgghh.” Nathaniel scowled at him, pulling the blanket around him tighter as he hunched low again.

“Don’t be such a grump.” Sigrun leaned forward, trying to look him in the face.

“Maybe you’re just too…perky.” He coughed again.

“Sigrun, do the-!” Anders cut in suddenly.

He saw Sigrun’s eyes widen with glee.

“Oh!” She closed her eyes, clutching her hands to her chest. “Woe! Woe is me! For the night is dark and full of-”

“That’s enough of that.” Nathaniel smirked, wrapping his arm around her neck and pinning her against his side.

“Yeeurrchh! Nate, you stink!” She whined in a muffle, as she pulled against his grip uselessly.

“See a great amount of water around, do you?” Nathaniel asked, ignoring the still-struggling dwarf.

“I think we passed a lovely muddy riverbed on the way here.” Anders suggested, cheerfully. “

“Sounds delightful.” Nathaniel managed, before another fit of coughing came over him and he let go of Sigrun. He slumped back a bit, caught by both of his companions. “Wanna die.” He grumbled.

“Typical.” Sigrun shrugged. “I’m not in any hurry to anymore. A girl’d think you just wanted to get away from her.”

“Not a chance.” He ruffled her hair, prompting a groan. “Besides, there’re easier ways to end it.”

“Oh?” Anders ventured.

“I could tell the Commander I know about the time she…uh…used some books. In the library.”

“Used?” Anders blinked.

“… _used._ ” Nathaniel fixed him a stare.

“In the library?” The mage continued. “Maker’s breath, Nathaniel, if she ever found out you knew they’d never find your body!” His eyes widened. “And now _I’m_ complicit!” He wailed.

Nathaniel nodded, solemnly.

“How do you use a book?” Sigrun asked, dubiously.

Both men looked at her as if they’d forgotten she was there and she recoiled a little.

 “Well…uh…it’s generally only a certain…kind of book.” Anders explained, slowly. “A…specialised form of literature.” He nodded, as if reaching a consensus after a furious mental debate.

“I don’t think I’ve read anything that sounds like that.”

“I’m sure you’d notice if you-…hey!” Anders yelped when Nathaniel elbowed him, with a hard glare.

“It’s,” Nathaniel stopped glaring at Anders and turned to Sigrun. “, um…” And then felt his own resolve melt. “…a kind of…”

“…special book, yes. I got that.” Sigrun interjected.

Behind him, he heard Anders sniggering. Well, he scowled, what the hell.

“Literature of a pornographic, erotic and sexually stimulating nature.” He said all at once.

You couldn’t have cut through the weight of the stifling tension that settled over the three with a White Steel broadsword.

Sigrun’s expression was static, her eyes fixed on his. He was stuck somewhere between fight or flight, unable to look away.

“What he said.” Anders squeaked, after about a minute. This seemed to break the suffocating silence.

“I didn’t know we had those.” Sigrun blurted, then her hands shot to her mouth as if she’d just realised what she’d said.

Nathaniel blinked several times, unsure of how to follow up.

“If I were a depraved…deviant, such as those who read such things,” Anders explained. “, I’d be able to tell you that we…that is they…hide all the good ones on the upper shelves.  But I’m not and I don’t so I can’t.” He smiled desperately.

“Have you…er…” She trailed off.

Sigrun was still caught between staring at the floor and him, cheeks bright red, expression torn between mortification and thinly-veiled interest.

Nathaniel scratched the stubble growing on his chin, grinning weakly, before another fit of coughing took hold. He’d never been so grateful.

“Well that’s another bust, we’ll head on to the last one and then regroup with the others.” The Commander appeared, followed by Velanna and the others, causing them all the jump and stare at her. “What’s wrong with-” The words died in her throat as she took in the varied expressions of Sigrun, Nathaniel and Anders, intense, frenetic and…fraught, respectively.

“What’s wrong, Commander?” Velanna appeared at her side.

“Why are they looking at me like that?” Rhiannon murmured, out of the corner of her mouth.

“Couldn’t say, Commander.” Velanna shrugged. “Could be that Howe told them about the time you were in the library with that book, ma-”

“Yes well I think we’ve heard enough about that time to move thank you Velanna and the rest of you help…er…help Nathaniel and get on your way to I’ll be going on ahead that’ll be all!” The Commander spoke loudly, not stopping to hear any replies and marched on ahead of the others quickly.

The four of them looked to and from one another.

“They’ll never find your bodies.” Velanna winked and walked on.

“But…but that means you were there too!” Anders gaped.

“I should probably write up a will.” Nathaniel sighed, shoulders slumped.

They both turned to Sigrun, who’d been silent through the exchange. The dwarf had a soft frown, looking thoughtful. She blinked, surprised once she noticed they were watching her and faced them.

“So, those books, does anybody have any recommendations?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Wardens are deviants. Also Sigrun is a fan of Game of Thrones.


	7. Pretty Things

The carriage rattled down the old road that led to the gate of Vigil’s Keep. The journey home had been quicker once the Commander had managed to…persuade…a merchant caravan to divert to Amaranthine, giving them all a ride on the series of wagons and carts.

He didn’t dwell on just how she’d managed it.

It was good to be getting back. It was strange how soon he’d come to think of it as home, even though technically it had belonged to his family. But he didn’t think of it as his home, he was a Grey Warden, even if he didn’t always feel like it, it was _their_ home.

And he had shaken the worst of the fever. Things were looking up.

He lowered the pipe from his mouth, and let out a short breath. A hazy smoke ring wafted upward, disappearing into the distance as they rolled on.

“How do you do that?” Sigrun asked, from beside him.

The two were sat side by side on the back of the last cart, pressed up against a stack of grain sacks.

He grinned to himself, inhaling another mouthful. With a little focus, he puffed out another ring, followed by a second, then a third.

“Practice.” He leaned back against the sacks, satisfied.

He saw her holding something in her hands, fondling it idly. She always seemed to have it on her, whatever it was.

“What is that?”

She jumped a little, obscuring whatever she was holding as she turned to facing.

“Just something the Commander gave me.” She replied. “Before we went to the Dragonbone Wastes.”

“Is it a secret?” He smiled, shutting his eyes as he lay back.

“No.” She replied, after a moment.

He felt something pressed into his right hand. It was cool and smooth, glass most likely. He held it up and opened his eyes, momentarily blinded when the light glared from behind it.

“A snow globe?” He asked, half-looking at her.

Sigrun nodded, looking embarrassed for some reason.

He gave it a gentle shake. Snowflakes whirled about inside. As they settled, he noticed the little figures inside. Nathaniel sat forward, cradling it in both hands to get a better look. Sigrun must have noticed because she leaned over too.

“The one in gold is the old king, Cailan, Commander Cousland said. And the other is-”

“Queen Anora?” He finished, looking at her.

“Yeah.” Sigrun nodded. “Look I know it’s silly but-”

“It’s pretty.” He cut in, giving her a smile. “Nothing wrong with liking something pretty.”

Sigrun’s gaze met his for a moment. Her expression softened and she smiled a little at his words. It made him feel good.

“I’ve never seen snow.” She said, turning her attention to the globe.

“But you practically lived under the Frostbacks.” He replied, surprised, before he could stop himself.

“Practically lived under Orzammar too.” She quipped, wryly. “Casteless rarely venture into the city proper, and had _no_ place wandering out to the surface entrance un-escorted.” Her shoulders slumped a little.

“I hear King Bhelen is trying to change things now.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t help all the injustice done before, does it?” She shrugged. “He’s probably getting something out of it himself too.”

Nathaniel inwardly debated mentioning that he’d heard Bhelen had ‘allowed’ casteless to volunteer for the army too and decided against it.

“Do you ever think about going back to visit? Nobody could stop you now.” He prompted, changing tack.

“I’d be going back as a Warden.” Sigrun sighed. “Not as a dwarf.”

Nathaniel winced. This was not going well.

“Sorry I brought it up at all now.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“It’s okay.” She smiled sadly. “There’s nothing for me there now.”

“And come winter, you’ll have more snow than you know what to do with up here.” He added giving her shoulder a pat.

“Yeah?” She chuckled.

“Mark my words.” He grinned. “You’ll be sick of it in a week.”

Her smile became less sad, making him feel a little better.

“Thank you, Nate.” She said, looking down at her knees.

“What for?”

“For taking an interest. Caring. I don’t know.” She replied, quietly.

“I do.” He thought about specifying, and realised he didn’t need to. “You are pretty interesting. You and your interest in trinkets.” He held up the snowglobe again, studying it closely.

“Alright.” She snorted, reaching out for it, but he pulled it out of her reach.

“And so _decadent_ for a former Legionnaire.” He grinned, rolling the snow globe from one hand to another. “Truly you have become one of us, here on the surface.”

“Alright, alright.” She grinned, snatching it back as he laughed. “If you tell anyone else I’ll break your knees.” She threatened, but the effect was spoiled because she couldn’t stop smiling.

“So it _is_ a secret!” He elbowed her playfully.

“No. I just don’t want anybody else to know.” She elbowed him back.

“You told me.” He leaned over.

“You’re different.” She looked up at him.

Again they paused a moment, eyes locked. He wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Is that good or bad?” He meant it as a joke, but it came out far more somber.

“Good.” She replied, simply.

He was aware they were sitting pretty close together. That sort of thing just hadn’t really occurred to him before. It made him feel on edge.

“I’ll try not to disappoint, then.” He swallowed. “I’d hate to let down the first proper friend I’ve made in years.”

“You’re doing okay.” Sigrun grinned. “For a Howe. According to the Commander, anyway.” She shrugged.

“Ouch.” He mock-winced, laying back on the sacks again, glad that whatever had just come over him seemed to have diffused. “Give me a kick when we get there.” He said, shutting his eyes.

“Sure.” She replied, watching the road.

As he stretched his arms back, resting his head on his hands, he opened one eye lazily. Nathaniel watched the dwarf, kicking her feet idly over the edge of the cart, for a while, her small hands resting on flat on the boards.

It was a strangely comforting image, and it stayed in his mind, along with thoughts of other pretty things, as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel, u so smoooooth.


	8. In A Name

“Something up.” Sigrun said, shaking his elbow.

He shook his head, groggy, as she slid off the back of the cart and made her way around. Assumedly, they were back at the keep. Yawning, he grabbed his bag and rested his bow over his shoulder and made his way after her.

The other Wardens were disembarking too, heading toward the gate of the Keep. Only Oghren had remained behind, with some of the greener recruits, or those prospects yet to undertake their Joining.

As he neared, he noticed Oghren waiting for them at the gateway, and beyond him, the courtyard abuzz with activity. What looked like a number of knights and other soldiers were milling about, along with several other well-dressed visitors.

Most of the other Wardens simply proceeded into the Keep, eager to reach their lodgings and relax, eat, or make their way to town. Sigrun, Velanna, Anders and Rhiannon had stopped by Oghren as he waved them over. He was vaguely aware of all the carts pulling away and back toward Amaranthine as he joined the others.

“Got some visitors.” Oghren gestured behind him. “Arrived just before you did. Makin’ a soddin’ mess a’ the courtyard.”

“Anybody we know?” The Commander looked over the dwarf.

“Rhiannon!”

Commander Cousland’s eyes widened and a smile broke out over her face.

“Fergus!” She laughed, pushing past them and rushing into the arms of one of what Nathaniel had assumed to be just another of the knights.

With some unease, he recognised Fergus Cousland, the new Teyrn of Highever.

“How goes it, Warden-Commander?” Fergus smiled kindly, as they drew back, running a hand softly down the back of her head.

“Pretty good. Spent nearly a month trawling for Darkspawn and didn’t find any.” She shrugged.

“A good result.” He nodded, approvingly.

“The best.” Rhiannon grinned.

The rest of them shared a look, having never seen the Commander act quite so…at ease. Only Oghren seemed unsurprised. Nathaniel supposed he understood, knowing all too well the fate of their family at the hands of his own, and hearing of the elder-Cousland’s supposed death in the Battle of Ostagar.

“And these are your…ah…men?” He quirked an eyebrow, taking in the variety in their number. “And what fine fellows…and ladies they appear to be.” He continued, quickly, seeing his younger sister’s expression.  His eyes fell on them and he stopped.

“Oghren, wasn’t it?” He nodded to the dwarf.

“Good t’ see yer.” The dwarf nodded back.

“And this is Sigrun, Velanna and-” Rhiannon introduced them, but stopped when her brother saw him.

 _And here it comes_ , Nathaniel thought, meeting Fergus’ gaze.

“Nathaniel.” Fergus managed, curtly.

“Fergus.” He replied, equally dispassionately.

Before he’d been sent to the Marches by his father, they’d almost been friends.

That seemed to be all that needed said, as he turned his attention back to the Commander, when she cleared her throat.

“I’ve come to warn you. Could be nothing, mostly the reports are based on rumours, but…”

“Spit it out, brother.” Rhiannon interrupted.

“Denerim has received reports of a small Qunari fleet in the active in the Amaranthine Ocean.”

“Seriously?”

“Rumours.” Fergus raised his hands. “Just rumours.”

“But rumours can be deadly, no?” A lilting, soft-spoken voice with an Orlesian accent cut in from behind them. A feminine figure approached in a long cloak, gently sliding down the hood to reveal a shoulder-length mop of bright, red hair.

“Leliana?” Rhiannon took a step forward, as if unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Hello, my love.” Leliana tilted her head, holding out her hands.

Their Commander let out a sharp laugh, gripping the Orlesian’s hands and closing the distance between them by pressing their lips together in a firm, but careful, kiss.

They all looked a little embarrassed at the display of affection, except Sigrun, Nathaniel noticed, who looked to be practically itching to squeal with glee.

“We can…catch up later, Rhi, no?” Leliana pinched the Commander’s chin softly between her thumb and forefinger. “Business first?”

“I suppose.” Rhiannon sighed.

“I’d never believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself.” Fergus grinned. “You really have tamed her.”

Rhiannon punched her brother in the arm.

“I’m in charge here, _Fergie_ ,” She raised a fist to him, mock-threateningly. “, and don’t you forget it.”

“Sorry, Commander.” He bowed slightly, still grinning. “But there are things we need to discuss. Maybe we can move this somewhere…private?” Fergus cast a way glance his way and he felt anger bristling.

“I have no secrets from my people.” The Commander replied, plainly.

“I’m not talking about your people.” Fergus replied, coolly, still watching him.

“Fergus.” Rhiannon warned.

Nathaniel thought about arguing back. He also thought about hitting the older man in his expressionless, staring face. Instead, he piled on the sarcasm.

“Andraste’s mercy, could it be you are referring to me, the son of that traitorous cur, Rendon Howe, who invaded your home and murdered your family while I was in another country? I believe you are!” He gestured to himself, in mock-surprise.

“Nathaniel, don’t.” Anders placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off.

“I know I only volunteered to join the Wardens, survived my Joining, fought by your sides against the Darkspawn and accepted my inevitable death with the rest of you though,” He laughed, bitterly. “, so I can see how I could be mistaken for untrustworthy.”

They all remained silent. He could feel Sigrun’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t face her at that moment. The Commander and the others at least looked uncomfortable.

“Don’t mind me.” He pushed through them. “Never let it be said a Howe failed to be a bastard.” He waved dismissively on his way into the Keep.

Sigrun watched him go, torn. She started after him, but was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Velanna, expression blank.

“Inside, brother.” Rhiannon muttered, voice low. “ _Now._ ”

The Commander spared them all an apologetic glance before stalking angrily off after her brother.

“It is hard to let go of our anger.” Leliana said, quietly. Sigrun had forgotten she was there.

“The Commander did.” She argued, looking sadly in the direction Nathaniel had gone. “Nate didn’t deserve that.”

“Rhi is…special.” Leliana said, softly. “As for your friend, I do not know him, but he does seem unlike the cruel man we met in the estate of the Arl of Denerim.”

Sigrun looked among the faces of her companions again, making up her mind.

“I’m going after him.”

“Wait.” Velanna ordered, pulling her back again.

“What is it?” Sigrun shook her hand off, irritated.

“I’ll go.” The elf mage looked down at her.

“You?” Anders blurted, then recoiled when Velanna shot him a glare.

“He’s my friend.” Sigrun insisted.

“A fortunate man indeed, to have a friend so concerned for him.” Leliana smiled at her, but she felt like there was something else behind the woman’s words.

“He’s our friend too.” Anders said, crossing his arms. “Whether he sees it or not.”

Oghren grunted something that might have been agreement.

“Sometimes you need a friend who is always there to lend an open hand.” Velanna explained, nodding at her. “And sometimes you need a friend who is prepared to kick you when you’re down.”

“I think I see what you’re driving at, but I’ve never heard it put _quite_ like that.” Anders interjected.

Velanna ignored him, keeping her gaze on Sigrun.

“I…promise I will do my best not to kill him.” Velanna went on, looking pained.

“Did…you just make a joke?” Sigrun tilted her head.

Velanna grinned briefly, before slinging her bag over her back and heading after Nathaniel.

Anders and Oghren disappeared into the Keep soon after, leaving Sigrun standing with Leliana. Sigrun wasn’t sure what to do next, at something of a loose end and the woman seemed content to remain with her for some reason.

“Don’t you want to go with the Commander?” Sigrun asked, after a minute. “It seemed like you two…um…missed each other quite a lot.”

“I missed her greatly.” Leliana replied, calmly. “But she is the Commander of the Grey now. Her duties are important, and I believe she has some very strong words to have with her brother over his conduct just now.”

“I can see why they’d both hate the Howe family for what happened, but Nate didn’t-”

“No, it is more than that.” Leliana shook her head. “Your friend is a Grey Warden, as are you and the others. You are Rhiannon’s Wardens. She has a duty and responsibility to all of you, to stand by you as you stand by her. It is not as simple as mere friendship. It is a bond of blood, no?”

Sigrun frowned, nodding slightly.

“Her brother will have to learn that.” Leliana continued. “It will not be easy, but Rhi has done so. He will not be alone.”

“Nate is nothing like what I’ve heard of his father. Nothing at all.” Sigrun began. “He’s kind, and patient. He’s clever and thoughtful, and he’s brave to a fault. He has time for people. But it doesn’t seem like anybody can see it.”

“More people than he realises can see it, I think.” The woman smiled again. “Clearly you can see it.”

“I wasn’t very nice to him, at first.” Sigrun admitted.

“That does not appear to be a problem now.” The Orlesian replied, knowingly.

Sigrun felt like she was being dug at again, and it left her feeling oddly vulnerable, but she still wasn’t sure why.

“What are you saying?”

“Perhaps you had better go after the mage. I would hate to think they tore each other to shreds while we chatted idly out here, no?” Leliana placed a hand gently on her arm. “I will be staying for some time. If you ever need to talk, I should be happy to listen.”

“Why would I need to talk to-” Sigrun began, but the woman was already strolling away.

She thought about pressing the issue with the Commander’s strange…friend, but soon found herself thinking about Nathaniel and Velanna. With a sigh, she turned in their direction.

 

…

 

Nathaniel ignored the jarring pain that shot up his arm as he swung the sword again into the training dummy. It tilted violently to the side. With a snarl he hacked at it again, and again, chipped wood and splinters flying into the air with every strike.

The training yard had empty fairly quickly after he’d stormed in and started laying into the dummy.

So he was being childish. Didn’t he has as much right to be as anybody else. Damn them, damn Fergus, damn Rendon, the old bastard.

He roared. With the sword gripped in both hands he brought it down, hard. It hacked into the dummy, cutting a thick, jagged wedge into it.

And damn himself too, while he was at it.

Half of the dummy splintered and finally fell away.

“That is certainly one training dummy that shall not threaten the world any longer.” A voice observed, from behind him.

He wrenched the sword free and spun, coming face to face with Velanna. Typically, the elf had the usual mixed look of disappointment and disinterest she always had when she was talking to him.

“At last, a noble deed to the Howe family name.” He muttered, looking down at the sword.

“You’ve quite ruined that weapon, however.” Velanna continued. “I should think the Commander will be charging you for that.”

“Probably.” He shrugged, unable to completely shake his earlier anger. “Look, what do you want?”

“That was a stupid thing you did out there.” The elf said plainly.

“And you just came all this way to tell me I’m an idiot?”

“If I have to.” She replied, crossing her arms. “Somebody should.”

“I’m a _Howe_. I can’t change that.” He spat. “I might as well be Rendon himself, for all it matters. Nathaniel doesn’t get a look-in.”

“If you truly believe that, then there is nothing to be done.” Velanna quirked a brow, idly. “I thought perhaps the man who came back to join the Wardens, despite his heritage, might have been above sulking and tantrums.”

“Why do you _care?_ ” Nathaniel argued, through gritted teeth. “What’s one less Howe in the world? My sister is happily married with a family of her own, letting the name die might do some good.”

“Sigrun would care a great deal, I think.” Velanna replied, unfazed by his anger, or by the sudden look of remorse on his face, at her words. “I should think your sister might miss you too. And perhaps even I and the other Wardens might feel the loss of a worthy comrade.”

“I-” He started, lamely.

His anger subsided, like a receding tide.

“What’s in a name, Howe?” Velanna said quietly, before turning and walking silently out of the yard.

His legs felt tired, all of a sudden, and the world so heavy on his shoulders. He cast the sword aside, the metal scraping and clattering across the cobblestone floor. Without thinking, numb to his surroundings he sat down on the ground, crossing his legs and clenching his hands together in his lap.

Before he knew it his vision blurred and his eyes stung with tears he couldn’t hold back. It was as if the grief he’d never felt, never allowed himself to feel, for the losses of his family over the years were suddenly brought forth.

“Damn it. _Damn you._ ” He hissed through gritted teeth, shaking all over, to nobody.

 

…

 

Sigrun bumped into Velanna in the hall that led into the training yard. The elf stopped a moment, glancing at her with a gentle expression.

“I think he needs your open hand.” She said, softly, then continued on her way.

Sigrun glanced behind her, watching the elf go before proceeding into the yard. She saw the ruined training dummy, the broken sword, and then the figure sitting in the centre of the room, shaking violently.

Her heart ached.

She dropped her pack carelessly and walked slowly toward him.

“Nate…Nathaniel?” She said, cautiously.

He was hunched forward, his hair masking his face.

“Nate.” She repeated.

His head shook briefly in response.

She bit her lip, then sat down in front of him, folding her knees beneath her. He still wouldn’t look at her.

What had Velanna said, _your open hand_?

With some trepidation, and her heart beating like a drum in her chest, she held out her hand, palm upturned.

She waited patiently.

After a moment, a rough, calloused hand was placed into her own equally-weathered palm. The scarred, worn textures of their skin telling shared stories of hardships and struggles.

This time, when she held out her other hand, Nathaniel’s gripped it right away.

“I’m not going away.” She said.

That seemed to do it, as the man slumped forward, and she heard his quiet, racking sobs. She pulled him into a hug. It was slightly difficult, due to her stature. She had to lean up on her knees and his arms nearly engulfed her completely, but she held on, taking his weight without complaint.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into her shoulder, just once.

She squeezed him a little tighter and they remained together, in the quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muh feeeelllzzzz
> 
> Also, yes, that's where the title comes from.


	9. Fishing

Nathaniel yawned, sitting back against the tree in a world of his own. He had a rod hooked between his knee, a long piece of straw between his teeth, and the only sound was the gentle flow of the stream, the buzz of indistinct life in the light woods around them and the occasional call of some bird in the clear blue, warm, afternoon sky.

Everything was bathed in a perfect shade of orange. It was calming. It was-

“I was not born to be a fisherman, I fear.” Anders groaned, from beside him.

Well, it was _almost_ perfect.

“You didn’t have to come along.” Nathaniel glanced across at his companion, though truthfully he didn’t mind the company as much as he used to.

Anders was as unlike him as a man could be, perhaps that was why they got on.

“And miss out on all this?” Anders grinned, trying and failing to thread a new line. “The nicest spots in the countryside straight from the man who grew up in here?”

“Hm.” Nathaniel chuckled. “It seemed much bigger, back then.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Anders replied, giving him a sideways glance as he resumed his struggle with the rod.

Nathaniel closed his eyes again. Fergus Cousland and the other knights had left a few days after they arrived. About two weeks ago, now. The other woman, the Commanders…significant other, he supposed, Leliana, had remained at the Keep. Whether there was a reason beyond their relationship, he didn’t know.

Things had…almost imperceptibly changed, somehow, since that moment in the training yard. Since he’d fallen as low as he ever thought possible. Since he’d been ready to simply give up.

Since a small hand had appeared out of the darkness, open and waiting.

Sigrun had saved his life that day, whether she knew it or not. He hadn’t realised it himself until several days later. He’d left the Keep for some time, staying with his sister in Amaranthine, if only to ground himself in what he knew, with the only person he could trust from the past.

Sigrun had been at the gate, waiting for him when he finally wandered back. They’d shared a smile, a few quiet words and gone on into the Keep where a number of the others were waiting, happy to see him too. More than he thought he deserved.

Ostensibly, things hadn’t changed between them, really. It wasn’t as if anything _definable_ had actually happened…but…

…but something was different.  Sigrun didn’t act differently, and he wasn’t sure he did, and neither of them expected any more from the other than before…but there it was, just out of reach. Some…thing had changed.

“Got it!” Anders yelled, suddenly.

He looked across, abandoning his musings and smiled wryly.

“Good job.” He nodded, opening the bait bag. “Now hook one of these one and get fishing.”

Anders’ face fell when he saw the bag’s contents. He looked up at Nathaniel but found no sympathy.

“Okay.” He said, face set in grim determination as he reached into the bag. He winced as he withdrew a wriggling worm. “Wonderful.” He groaned.

“I’m getting the impression you’ve never done this before.” Nathaniel quipped.

“I’m a mage.” He clenched his eyes shut as he tried to get the worm onto the hook. “We…do not fish.”

“Fine time to start then.” Nathaniel chuckled.

He watched, with an inordinate degree of amusement, as Anders struggled with his task. Sigrun would probably have just gotten on with it.

“So,” Anders began, suddenly. “, you seem…much better lately.” The mage gulped, uneasily as the worm slipped onto the hook.

“Feel a lot better.” He nodded to himself.

“You look it.” Anders added. “Whatever Siggy did seems to have done the trick.”

He eyed the mage suspiciously. Anders was good at playing the fool, but there was an underlying intelligence some people missed.

“Mm.” He agreed.

“In fact, the two of you seem very close, these days.”

“Good friends. I trust her with my life.” Nathaniel answered, one eye on the mage again.

“Quite close, in fact.”

 _Okay then_ , Nathaniel thought.

“What are you driving at?” He asked, cutting through whatever game Anders was playing.

“Nothing, I was merely…asking whether you or she um…you know.”

“You’re fishing.” Nathaniel frowned, lightly.

Anders looked from the rod in his hands to Nathaniel, innocently.

“Well, I’m trying.”

“And not doing very well on both counts.” Nathaniel chuckled, throatily. “I suggest, very politely, sticking to this kind.” He indicated the rod in the crook of his knee. “And not the kind that involves delving into my personal life.”

Anders looked like he was going to argue, but nodded slowly.

“Fair enough. Sorry.”

“No harm done.” He replied, leaning back again.

He listened as there was a quiet _plop_ as Anders line hit the water. For almost a full minute, there was peace. His thoughts returned again to the dwarf who seemed to take up so much of his attention now.

“I’ve got a bite!” Anders yelled abruptly, jumping to his feet.

Nathaniel climbed to his feet to help his frantic companion, trying not to think about how the mage’s fishing efforts might have paid off.

Maybe even on both counts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders, master of cunning, master of fishermen.


	10. Table Manners

“And it was this big!” Anders exclaimed, proudly, arms spread absurdly wide.

Around him, various Wardens laughed or egged him on. Nathaniel smiled to himself, wryly, enjoying Anders’ fishing-related tall tales.

Truly he had made a fisherman of the mage, after all.

The Main Hall was actually near-full, for once. The Commander and the others were sat around the long tables which were set with food and drink. Most nights, many of the Wardens simply had other plans, or remained in their quarters. Tonight, for some reason, the hall was packed.

“Was it?” Sigrun asked from beside him, nudging him slightly.

He saw a few other men and women at the table peer toward them, curiously. He supressed a grin, with some difficulty.

“This big.” He held up his thumb and forefinger.

There was a series of snorts and laughs around them, including from Sigrun, and soon the information would spread up the table.

“Poor Anders.” Sigrun chuckled, taking a swig from her tankard.

“Oftentimes the story is more important than the catch.” Nathaniel replied, calmly. “By that measure, Anders is doing damn well.” He raised his own mug, toasting it with hers to the mage’s antics.

The dwarf laughed beside him, and he joined in.

There was an irresistible sense of good-feeling in the hall that night, and all the Wardens seemed to be enjoying it. There were few sureties in a Warden’s life, and the ability to truly enjoy yourself without worrying about monsters or death was something to be treasured.

A chill wind blew through the hall suddenly, causing the candles to flicker briefly. It was alright dark out, and the temperature was cooling more and more as summer turned to autumn.

“Nights’re getting long.” Nathaniel observed. “Won’t be long before winter sets in.”

“Winter?” Sigrun blurted, suddenly interested. “Snow?” She said, eyes wide.

A couple of the Wardens around them chuckled at her obvious interest, but Nathaniel only nodded kindly.

“Better’n even chance.” He replied, taking a swig. “Gonna be damn cold this near to the coast, too.”

“The Frostbacks have a lot of snow, I used to hear bits and pieces from merchants who would travel to the surface to trade.” Sigrun continued.

“Don’t think we’ll get quite that much.” He said, thinking of snow metres thick and deadly avalanches. “But we’ll get enough. More than most would like.”

“How do you mean?”

“Can’t farm in snow, blocks roads, cold and ice can kill. Winters are hard in Ferelden.” He went on. “Sure, it’s a bit of fun for the children at first, a bit of a change, but it doesn’t last.”

“Oh.” Sigrun replied, looking grim.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to dampen your enthusiasm.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “The people of Amaranthine will come out okay. They had a good summer, and a good harvest, despite the Darkspawn troubles at the start of the year. And we’re all here to chip in I suppose. I can’t see the Commander sitting by while people suffer, can you?”

They looked up the table to see their great leader currently at the tail end of many cups of wine and mugs of beer, leaning against the bard, Leliana and grinning broadly, utterly failing to mask the affection they clearly shared.

“I can’t see her even standing upright at the moment, but I take your point, Nate.” Sigrun grinned.

“It’s not all bad. We missed out on Summerday and All Soul’s Day but there’s Satinalia to look forward to.” He swallowed another mouthful. “That was always fun. I missed celebrating it with…with my family while I was in the Free Marches.”

“I recognise some of those,” Sigrun frowned. “, I read something about them. They’re your holidays and celebrations right?”

“Mm.” He nodded. “Used to be based on the Old Gods, but the Chantry like a party I hear, so they…uh…repurposed them.”

“Is there drinking?” Sigrun asked, looking up at him.

“Lots!” Oghren slapped them both on the back with a sharp laugh, sending both their drinks flying. He reached between them for a joint of ham and another mug of beer and carried on laughing as he moved up the hall.

“Answer your question?” Nathaniel managed, wiping beer off his face.

“Think so.” She sighed, tentatively poking her soaked hair.

“Sometimes I hate that guy.” He slicked back his own beer-sodden hair.

“I hear you.” Sigrun smiled weakly. “What else?”

“Sorry?” Nathaniel replied, absently as he redid his pontytail.

“Satinalia.” Sigrun leaned on the table. “Anything else?”

“It’s one of the year’s biggest festivals. Celebrations, food, gifts. People also dress up with masks and costumes.”

“Presents? Dressing up?” Her eyes lit up even more and Nathaniel found himself caught up in her enthusiasm.

“The local fool is named ‘ruler’ for the day too.” Nathaniel explained. “So here at the Keep that’ll be Anders.” He said loudly, knowing he’d be heard.

“I resent that!” Anders called back, breaking off his story to the amusement of his audience. “Come Satinalia you’ll do my bidding!” He yelled dramatically.

“Only if the Commander can stop making goo-goo eyes at our Orlesian guest.” Velanna added, sarcastically, from across the table. “Otherwise, you have some stiff competition, Anders.”

“I heard that!” Commander Cousland hurled an apple core across the room, hitting Oghren in the back of the head while he moved between the tables, causing him to drop his food and drink.

The hall fell silent as the dwarf turned toward the source of the throw.

“Oops.” Leliana said, quietly.

“Now…uh…Oghren, don’t do-” Commander Cousland began, getting to her feet hesitantly.

“Rrrraarrgghh!” Oghren roared, latching onto the nearest tray of food and hurling it in the general direction of the Commander.

The only problem was all the other people who got covered by debris in between them.

Soon, they were on their feet shouting too, and before anybody knew what was happening food and drink was flying everywhere.

Anders was a standing target, and found himself under fire very quickly. Nathaniel ducked a large decanter, pulling Sigrun down to the floor with him to avoid a roasted beef joint.

“You don’t seem…very surprised.” He grumbled to Sigrun as they took shelter beneath the unfolding battle.

“By this?” Sigrun grinned. “Not at all. This is a _dwarf_ thing.”

“Oghren does seem to be enjoying himself.” Nathaniel observed, as they crawled under the table toward the main doors.

They paused at the end, watching Velanna freeze a number of projectiles mid-flight before blasting one of the long tables in half.

“So, pub?” Nathaniel asked, conversationally.

“Sounds good.” Sigrun grinned, crawling past him.

It didn’t occur to him for a moment or two that he’d been focusing rather intently on her behind as she wriggled out from under the table. He shook his head and put it down to the drink, before crawling out after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens are super professional.


	11. You Ain't Heavy...

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Nathaniel muttered, dubiously.

“Come on, what’s the harm?” Sigrun grinned. “They’re smugglers.”

The two were side by side at the bar in The Crown and Lion. Nathaniel leaned back on the surface, while Sigrun herself was sitting _on_ the bar, legs dangling over the side. She set her drink down next to his, leaning over to whisper in his ear in a hushed tone each time she spoke.

“They’re criminals, it’s just a bit of fun.”

“Ah yes, I do love the crime.” Nathaniel nodded, sarcastically.

Sigrun laughed, softly. It made him smile in return.

“Think of it as…information gathering.” She said.

“By relieving them of their pocket change?”

“Pick-pocketing is an important life skill.” Sigrun argued. “I made good use of it.”

“I bet you did.” He grinned, cheesily, downing the last of his drink.

She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Got something better to do then?” She shot him a playful look, the motion throwing a few strands of hair across her face.

He chuckled to himself, crossing his own arms and smiling dumbly back.

“I suppose not.” He replied, off-handedly. “I’d go and see what Sigrun was doing but she’s here trying to incite petty-theft.”

“Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud.” She huffed. “Look, watch me, then you try.” She said, sliding off the bar and dropping with a thud. “Oh, hold this.” She thrust her weathered jacket into his grasp, rolling up the sleeves of her tunic.

He watched, mildly amused as she sifted through the crowd, practically unnoticed. Eventually, she came upon the table with the smugglers, busy with a game of cards. Barely missing a beat, she bumped into an elf, on the end of the bench, who jostled the bigger man next to him. While he started yelling at the elf, Sigrun had already ducked past, weaving past a group crossing the room while the confused elf looked for her in vain.

Moments later, she was strolling confidently back toward the bar, tossing a coinpurse up and down, catching it in her palm.

“Easy.” She grinned.

She came up to the bar and he gripped her hand, hefting her upward, allowing her to sit on the side once again.

“Fine.” He shook his head, with a sigh. “Anything to keep m’lady happy.” He bowed with an offensive lack of grace, tossing her jacket back toward her and moving through the crowds.

“Fork-tongued devil.” She laughed. “Go for the big guy. He’s pretty drunk.” She advised.

“So am I, for that matter.” He half-mumbled to himself. As soon as he’d let go of the bar, his head began to spin a little, the drinks finally catching up with him.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be graceful, or was unaccustomed to finesse. He was a great archer, that was simply fact. And he was a damned decent ranger, a competent scout. He knew about finesse.

He just hadn’t ever really done the stealthy thing, very much.

Nathaniel approached the table, seeing the men on the table. The elf was on the left and…somewhere in the crowd he’d lost sight of the one Sigrun had pointed out. There were two pretty huge-looking armoured men there now. Both in scaled mail.

“Balls.” He muttered.

As casually as he could managed, he strolled along behind the table. Conveniently, the two armoured men stood up together. It made it a little easier to reach the purse on his targets belt. Too late as he reached out carefully, he noted certain aspects of his target. The sheer _mass_ of their stature, the slightly dull, pale tint to their skin, the rudimentary, militaristic hairstyle.

His brain got caught at cross-purposes, and something must have tipped off the Qunari mercenary he’d rather poorly chosen to try and steal from as the tall figure turned to face him. The warrior loomed over him, hostility radiating off of him.

“Er…this is a misunderstanding?” He ventured.

“Wrong one!” He heard Sigrun yell from behind him, before the warrior’s fist collided with his face.

 

…

 

She watched, eyes wide as the massive Qunari mercenary turned to face the archer, expression grim.

“Wrong one!” She yelled, too late, as the Nathaniel was knocked clear off his feet and into the table behind him.

Sigrun leapt off the bar and broke into a run across the pub. Already, the drinkers on the other table were on their feet and a melee had started somewhere in the middle. She picked up a chair on the way, jumping up another table and off the other side, bringing it crashing into the back of the mercenary’s head before he could attack Nathaniel again.

The archer was struggling to his feet shakily, rubbing his head and grumbling to himself, ignoring the chaos going on around them. She had to get him out of this mess, this was all her fault. She knew she’d be able to goad him along and she knew he’d never have refused her and…

A vice-like hand suddenly grabbed her collar, tugging her backward and up into the air. She struggled uselessly, feet not even touching the ground.

“You!” Somebody yelled. It was the elf smuggler.

The Qunari yanked her sideways, sending her crashing into another patron, but still kept hold of her neck.

“Let ‘er go!” Another voice roared.

She just had time to see Nathaniel vault over several other brawlers, crashing into the Qunari mercenary and sending all three of them cartwheeling across the pub. When her head stopped spinning, and the world was the way up it used to be, she managed to dig her way out from under the broken chair to see Nathaniel fighting with the mercenary…and winning.

The Qunari must have been near out of it, by that point, she mused. But still, there was something…enthralling about watching the archer floor the warrior with a single punch to the jaw. Before the mercenary could recover, Nathaniel was on him, a hand gripping his collar and pummelling him repeatedly.

“Just. Stay. Down. Damn. It” She heard him growling, with each swing.

She tried to get up, wincing as a stab of pain ran up her leg. Looked like she’d hit something important on her way across the room. That was annoying.

Nathaniel eventually stopped when the Qunari simply flopped back, letting go of the warrior and stumbling in her direction, wiping blood from his lip with his arm. He caught her eye as she managed to get to her feet, leaning on a broken table. A grin spread across his features as he brought out a coinpurse similar to the one she’d _liberated_  earlier, tossing it and catching it in the same way she had done. She grinned back, wincing only a little at the pain shooting up her leg.

By now the brawl had mostly subsided, people returning to their drinks and companions among the ruined tables and chairs, the barman looking on in a restrained, quiet fury.

“Maybe we should go.” Nathaniel eyed the barman warily.

“That’s what I like about you, Nate.”  She smiled. “Tactical thinking.”

“I try.” He chuckled, gruffly, rubbing his jaw sorely.

The two of them were an absolute state. Both bruised, bloodied, battered and generally a bit of a mess. She took him in as he did the same, and they laughed.

“You okay?” He asked, concern apparent on his face when he noticed her hiss in pain as she tried to take a step toward the door.

“Think I hit something.” She grumbled, rubbing her thigh. “When we went flying.”

“Yeah, I saw. It was an elf.” He chuckled. “Thought you dwarves were made of harder stuff.”

“Speak for yourself, human.” She quipped. “You all got glass jaws.”

“Shoulda seen the other guy.” He mock-bragged.

“Fair point.” She conceded. “Don’t think many could beat down a Qunari in hand-to-hand, from what I hear. Not without a bit of luck.”

“Pure skill.” He grinned, flexing his blatantly thin arm. “Anyway, let’s get you out of here.”

“Get…what?” She managed, looking up at him quickly. “Wait…do-…oh!” She squeaked as he stooped down, scooping her up into his arms before she could object.

It only occurred to her then, as she lay curled there in his steady arms, at the quiet strength that hid within her Warden comrade. It wasn’t something she’d ever really noticed.

“No need to look like a trapped animal.” He grinned down at her briefly, as he walked out into the cool night air.

“Sorry.” She blurted.

“Oughta get Velanna to look at that leg when we get back.”

“Mm.” She mumbled in reply, automatically.

She wasn’t really paying attention. Instead, she was staring up at his face, the stark profile cast against the night sky.

He was quite good-looking, in a human sort of way. Maybe even handsome, without the black eye, possibly broken nose, bruised face and cuts. Maybe.

She let herself relax in his arms, and his hold softened as she did. It was a long walk back, she reasoned, she might as well make the most of the free ride. It was pretty calming, the steady rhythm of his feet crunching in the dirt, the gentle bobbing of his movement.

“Don’t let me fall asleep.” She poked him in the chest. “I don’t want anybody to think _you_ had to bail me out.”

He didn’t look down at her, but his lips curled in a smile. She found herself smiling too.

“Whatever you say.” He sighed.

 

…

 

Nathaniel adjusted his hold on the sleeping dwarf carefully as he entered the courtyard. This late most people were asleep anyway, beside a few sentries on the walls and they weren’t paying any attention to a couple of Wardens coming or going at this time of night.

Sigrun had fallen asleep a full five minutes after insisting she wouldn’t fall asleep. He hadn’t the heart to wake her up.

He made his way through corridors and up a set of stairs, finding his way to Sigrun’s room in the Keep. He backed into the door, glad she never locked it.

For a thief and a rogue, she was surprisingly trusting at times.

Carefully, he laid her down on her bed. She stirred a little, mumbling something unintelligible. Her face scrunched up slightly in a way he found curiously appealing. Before he could step away, her hand had gripped his arm.

She was still asleep, lost in some kind of dream, so he put it down to a kind of reflex or something, but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let go of his sleeve.

“Hm.” He half-chuckled, sitting down beside her bed. He tried to get comfortable, resting against the side while the dwarf resolutely held onto him. With care, he managed to lean back against the wall, nestling himself in the crook of the bed and the stone it was pressed up against.

Nathaniel cast a last tired look at his friend. She seemed to have settled again, a look of peace on her features. He felt an unfamiliar tug somewhere in his chest, and shook it away.

“Night then.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have the fluff. Have all the fluff.


End file.
